Monday, February 14, 2011
Mcfarlane Price Guides
todo.me.parece.bonito.
commercial, consumer, strategic.
adjectives that he blamed on the 14 February, but few know its history. The story of a Christian priest of the third century Rome secretly joined the soldiers, who were forbidden to marry, with their partners.
was killed on a 14-2.
And certainly do not need a day to love someone, that hearts are tacky, and some present labor.
But what is wrong with waking up to breakfast in bed and a bouquet of peonies in a vase?
What is wrong if this date is the excuse of many to spend a little more, and run away together to a remote place, or that nice restaurant?
It is true that many do not need excuses to buy gifts, reread and say I love Neruda.
But sometimes it a little push to write something that takes time and in my mind.
If I can finish this post, at least it will have served valentine something to me. will have been the excuse to give me back the keys.
I am too lazy to be romantic.
I can hardly say love, my life, heaven!
makes me cringe too cloying expressions of love.
proclaim with great fanfare that I LOVE this or that fashion collection or raspberry tarts, I fell in love
of shoes or that I had a crush on seeing a movie.
Also, it is true, you succeeded in extracting a ti amo
on our last day together for over six years.
of shoes or that I had a crush on seeing a movie.
Also, it is true, you succeeded in extracting a ti amo
on our last day together for over six years.
My heart bolted the first time I read that
I do with you what spring does with cherry trees.
And I trembling fingers to answer the sms goodnight. 
lie if I say no smile like a fool when I hand chases the car, and I can not deny that the film version of Sex in New York just save the session to Carrie Vogue. wedding dress. 
Ballet, Paris, strawberries and cream.
soft kisses, gestures accomplices.
passion, ANXIETY.
Mourn with Titanic on the sly. although he looks very young for her.
and Coppola's Dracula. though he is, well, a vampire.
the Capulet name sound like something. or high.
perhaps sound like a sleepless night.
that the end always thrill you.
I do with you what spring does with cherry trees.
And I trembling fingers to answer the sms goodnight.
lie if I say no smile like a fool when I hand chases the car, and I can not deny that the film version of Sex in New York just save the session to Carrie Vogue. wedding dress.
Ballet, Paris, strawberries and cream.
soft kisses, gestures accomplices.
passion, ANXIETY.
Mourn with Titanic on the sly. although he looks very young for her.
and Coppola's Dracula. though he is, well, a vampire.
the Capulet name sound like something. or high.
perhaps sound like a sleepless night.
that the end always thrill you.
Jacques Brel
hear someday.
or put on headphones to listen more closely to the words of some Italian singer.
old movies only those kisses that are not nothing
preliminary. are just that, kissing, but you're waiting for hours.
hear someday.
or put on headphones to listen more closely to the words of some Italian singer.
old movies only those kisses that are not nothing
preliminary. are just that, kissing, but you're waiting for hours.
someone calls you one night in August. and makes you go into the garden in their pajamas, to see together estrelllas fleeting rain.
in class, someone makes you laugh another day after day. touch you, type in the phone you want and you just show it to you. and you have to improvise, hide, try not to wear red. because nobody knows anything yet.
a call with prefix +39.
sixty months later.
miss the streets of Madrid.
and also losing control. again.
dumb message exchange. 
hugs at midnight, whispering on the couch, kissing in the rain, sun, sand on the beach.
you feel tiny curled up, dreaming of our first floor.
goodnight, princess.
in class, someone makes you laugh another day after day. touch you, type in the phone you want and you just show it to you. and you have to improvise, hide, try not to wear red. because nobody knows anything yet.
a call with prefix +39.
sixty months later.
miss the streets of Madrid.
and also losing control. again.
dumb message exchange.
hugs at midnight, whispering on the couch, kissing in the rain, sun, sand on the beach.
you feel tiny curled up, dreaming of our first floor.
goodnight, princess.
q ue Chuck feel butterflies in your stomach.
you and me.
seeing every day for years without knowing.
that letter with misspelled words.
a park, your friends and mine. a frigid night on the eve of Christmas Eve.
laughs, cries on the phone.
and we vemos furtivamente una, dos, tres, cinco veces a la semana.
y nos graduamos juntos.
aprendemos por fin a tragarnos nuestro orgullo.
porque al final, romántica o no, la verdad es que sólo me importa cerrar los ojos y saber que, al abrirlos, estarás ahí.
Feliz San Valentín.
Bi.
you and me.
seeing every day for years without knowing.
that letter with misspelled words.
a park, your friends and mine. a frigid night on the eve of Christmas Eve.
laughs, cries on the phone.
and we vemos furtivamente una, dos, tres, cinco veces a la semana.
y nos graduamos juntos.
aprendemos por fin a tragarnos nuestro orgullo.
Feliz San Valentín.
Bi.
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